It comes about – this happening
and no one can explain it; this identification,
this attachment – it doesn’t mean you exist.
Surrounded by these arising sensual events,
but who and where is their hub,
not to mention their origin?
Can you just conjure up a figure?
Create a somebody out of nothing?
Lifelong attachment results from
the notion you exist; a center around which
the senses circumambulate,
from which thoughts and feeling arise,
wherein histories accumulate . . . as well
as the attachment to the flesh and the material
which seals your fate yet again –
and that is you; you’ll be back
treading the same old mill
lifetime after lifetime
simply because you cannot accept
the implacable reality that you do not exist.
O child of God, only God is real.
Only God. Little ol’ you do not exist.